Happy Birthday
by magicandheroes
Summary: a post-IW birthday for Steve would probably be a little different.. :/


A/N: yikes. kinda sorry. kinda not because they're still soft and in love.

* * *

Time had blurred together since Thanos came and took away half the universe. Steve, Natasha, the raccoon, and Bruce, too, for a bit, had stayed in Wakanda to help try to re-build the nation, the land, the beautiful community that had been torn apart by war, by the complete opposite of the goodness they'd shown to Steve, Bucky, and Natasha in the past few years.

Exhausted from.. everything.. Steve was sleeping in his room when Natasha came padding in, gently opening the door to see him tossing and turning in his slumber. She softly shut the door behind her and moved to his bedside, pulling back the covers that he'd twisted in his sleep and climbing into her usual spot. She gathered him in her arms and felt him relax under her touch. It pained her to see the normally optimistic, loving man so tormented. She thought back to this same day last year, when, yes, they'd been on the run, but they'd spent the day lounging around on the balcony of their hotel room above the beach in the Baltic sea.

* * *

 _She'd made a passing comment about his age, "Wow, 99, that's pretty damn old," which had become such a habit she didn't even really realize she said it until he paused in his delivery of her drink, looking at her with mock-abhorrence before the glint in his eye turned dark and mischievous. The next thing she knew she was covered in water and staring in genuine shock at Steve, who stood there innocently, with the now empty glass in his right hand. That's how they'd ended up both soaked, laughing lying on the floor when Sam returned with a cake and a large candle of the number 99._

 _"Do I even want to know?" he'd asked, amused._

 _Steve was quick to respond, pointing at Natasha and declaring, "she started it!"_

 _Natasha could_ not _believe him. So she took off her shirt and threw it at him, adding to the sopping mess he was and, she believed, effectively getting him back for that comment._

 _She looked mighty smug, and when Steve removed the cloth from his face and took in Natasha's appearance, his heated gaze made her oddly nervous but even more powerful. She now had a piece of information to use at a later date.. hopefully._

 _Sam demanded they both change before dinner and cake so they went back to their rooms to do just that, only Natasha followed Steve into his, making a show of shutting the door behind her. The look in Steve's eyes, never mind the arched eyebrow, made her think for a second that he was going to do something, but the playfulness and normalcy won out and he turned back to his drawer._

 _Teasingly he said, "you only want me for my clothes," tossing one of his t-shirts to her and holding up a pair of boxers and sweats for her to choose._

 _"Boxers," she answered his silent question and he threw those over to her too._

 _"And I think we both know that's not true," she stated honestly._

 _Steve spun to look at her and he could tell in her eyes that she was being honest, which made the sweetest smile appear on his face._

 _She returned it easily before speaking again, "you better change, you know. Sam wasn't kidding and I want cake." He laughed and turned around to do as she said. He didn't hear any movement from her side, though, and looked over his shoulder to, sure enough, find her still facing him, pulling his shirt over her head. "You gotta turn around too, Nat." She sighed dramatically, "if I must," but turned around all the same. He chuckled and got to changing as quickly as possible. Before he finished, he heard her voice again, "Ok, Rogers, turn around whenever. I'm all good." He quickly pulled his shirt on and turned around before having the chance to fix his hair. When Natasha saw him she started laughing, grabbing his hand and heading towards the bathroom, where she wet her hands with water and fixed his hair. "I swear, if I wasn't here to make you look presentable, you'd gather even more attention, and not for anything good," she joked._

 _As she patted his chest, Steve brought his hands to her waist and tapped out a gentle rhythm. "I know, Nat. I'd be lost without you," he joked, though he knew he meant it._

 _Natasha nodded in agreement, making Steve chuckle again. Then he looked down to his hand and pushed her back a little to look at what she was wearing and let out one big laugh, "Jesus, Nat! You're so small!" She was absolutely_ swimming _in his clothes._

 _"Yeah, well, maybe you're just really big!" she fought back._

 _Steve laughed again at her adorable stubbornness and squeezed her hip before moving his hand to her other hip, encircling her waist and escorting her out, beginning to walk back to the kitchen. He pulled her close for a side-hug and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Mm, but you love me like this." He knew it was dangerous, using that word, and so was very pleasantly surprised when Natasha hummed in agreement, or so he thought. She rolled her eyes, "I guess so.." she said in a teasing tone, but leaned into him more nonetheless. He chuckled at her antics once again and that's how they were when they walked into the kitchen, blissfully happy for that moment in time._

* * *

Natasha sighed at the memory. How far away that seemed now, and Sam.. she choked up at the thought so she turned her attention back to the sleeping man in her arms. She stroked Steve's hair and pressed a kiss to the spot where his floppy hair met his forehead, causing him to stir beneath her. He woke suddenly, like most nights, but she held him tight until he calmed down. "Nat…" he sounded lost and like maybe she was the only tether he had anymore.

"Shhh," she continued running her hands through his hair. He let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, Nat," he shuddered as her fingernails lightly scratched his scalp and then turned in her arms to face her. Natasha's heart broke a little more at the sight that greeted her — beautiful blue eyes weighed down by an unfathomable burden, unshed tears swimming in them.

She remembered why she came here. To make words mean something, for once. For pete's sake, he's _100_ today. Steve looked like he was about to speak again so Natasha took action first, brushing off his earlier expression of gratitude to let him know she heard him, but that it was nothing, really.

She kept her hold on him soft but firm where she was cupping the back of his neck at his jawline and brushed her thumb once across the apple of his cheek. Then she went for it. Moving with a grace unique to Natasha, she leaned in and brushed her lips softly against his, backing out almost immediately.

"Happy birthday, Steve," she nearly whispered, eyes soft and the ghost of a smile gracing her features.

Her eyes searched his and then traveled all around his face, trying to get a good look, to judge his reaction. When she found nothing, she started to blush and looked away quickly, trying to apologize. Suddenly Natasha Romanoff seemed _shy_.

"Sorry, I just.. thought -" but then a hand was tipping her chin back up and a voice softly but firmly saying her name, "Natasha."

She looked up into Steve's eyes and there was so much conflicting emotion there - pain, sadness, surprise, a little desire.. but most of all, what made her breath hitch when she saw it - love. And she felt like she could drown in it.

So she looked away before she could get too attached, and moved her gaze down to his lips, where she saw a tiny smile formed, as if he tried to stop it but the emotion inside just couldn't be suppressed so it came out anyway.

It's infectious and soon Natasha found herself smiling, too, despite all the circumstances.

She looked back up to Steve's eyes to find them taking her appearance in - pajama shorts and a camisole - nothing sexy about it, but then his eyes flicked back up to meet hers in a silent question and she nodded almost imperceptibly and then suddenly Steve's lips were back on hers.

He let out a sigh into the kiss, as if he had been waiting and wanting this for a long long time, as if he was finally letting go or giving in to something, as if he was coming home, comfortable and able to relax at long last.

Natasha felt her lips twitch into a small smile again at the thought of that, that she was able to do that for him, this man who gave and gave and gave and expected nothing in return, who had experienced too much death and destruction in his life to probably ever be truly happy again.. but she could give him contentment and comfort and perhaps even a little bit of joy here and there, and maybe that was enough.

It didn't feel wrong, like both of them thought it might (because they _had_ thought about doing this - a lot), to be enjoying this little moment, smiling, getting to be happy for a little bit with each other.

They broke apart and rested their foreheads together, pausing a moment to catch their breath before Natasha rolled them so Steve was on his back and Natasha was on top of him. Steve chuckled at her dominance and she kissed him quiet. They stayed like that for a long time, not doing anything else but enjoying the comfort that they brought each other through joined mouths and soothing touches on patches of bared skin.

If they closed their eyes, it could almost feel like they were back in New York or DC, sun bearing down as they kicked ass and took names, then went back to his apartment or hers for ice cream and catching Steve up on movies. With each other, it had always felt like home. She felt silly to not have noticed it earlier, but she's, god, she was so grateful she had now.

"Steve," she whispered, voice rough.

"Hm?" he answered non-committaly, trying to chase after her lips. She laughed and pinched him in the side to get him to stop.

"Hey!" he protested.

"I'm trying to be serious here! I have something to tell you." Natasha looked determined so Steve remained quiet, which she took as a signal to continue.

She smiled as she thought about what she was about to say, and then, "I love you." She stayed silent, then, waiting for his response anxiously but the smile never leaving her face. When he didn't answer after a minute or two she poked his cheek. "Earth to Steeeeve…"

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here," he said in a rush.

"Well don't just lay there! Say something!"

Steve chuckled, shaking his head at this ridiculous, adorable woman, smile growing as he prepared to speak again. "I love you too!" He half-shouted the declaration and in a split second flipped them over so he was above Natasha, now. He peppered her face with kisses, she _squealed_ and started giggling. He smiled against her neck, placing his lips on her pulse point, where he could feel it racing, and sucked, hard. She moaned now and he moved further south to lick and nip at her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, fingers brushing lightly against her sides, making her shake switching between laughter and moans. He finally let up and looked up at her, that damned smug grin on his face, and she swatted at him for being such a little shit.

He plopped down on his back next to her and turned to look at his love, his light, face flushed and danger in her eyes. He laughed softly and pulled her to his chest, which made all the pent up tension leave her body in an instant. She hummed and turned so her body was lying directly on top of his, letting out a content sigh after she got comfortable.

Steve wrapped his arms loosely around her, palms coming together to rest on the small of her back, and took in the sight in front of him. Natasha had placed her head on his chest, her hands in his hair, their legs tangled together. She looked so comfortable and it made him happy to see that she could be like that with him. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, making her eyes open.

She moved so she could peer up at him. Genuinely curious, she asked, "how does it feel to be 100?"

"Better now," he smiled down at her.

And it was. Thanks to Natasha, the phrase "happy birthday" finally rang true for Steve, even if just a little bit. Only with and because of her was he able to laugh, to smile, to feel that warmth spread through him that he remembered feeling in brighter days. And that was a beautiful thing, a gift, _his_ gift, that had made his birthday, he would say, a happy one.

* * *

A/N: uhhh so, let me know what you thought? and I'm sorry if I opened old scabs but I hope the second half soothed them if I did! I love you guys and I love them and I couldn't get this idea out of my head of what his birthday would be like after all the shit that was IW went down and so.. this was produced. heavy sigh. take a deep breath. go read some bday smut and/or fluff fics. self-care, people.

happy 100th, Steve Rogers.


End file.
